


Lucky Kiss

by theladymondegreen



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: AU - Falconers didn't win the Stanley Cup, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Artistic Liberties, Bitty works for the Providence Falconers, Canon Took the Scenic Route, M/M, no way NHL teams operate that way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-21 23:17:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17651558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theladymondegreen/pseuds/theladymondegreen
Summary: "How’d you like a job, starting five minutes ago?” In which the Falconers have never won the Stanley Cup, but this year is going to change that, even if it takes a little luck.





	Lucky Kiss

It started innocuously enough.

Bitty was halfway through making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the team when he realized they were out of peanut butter. The tradition had started last playoffs season, when they won three games in a row and advanced to the conference finals on the luck brought by the sandwiches alone, if you asked Tater. So the sandwiches were a must, and Jack would be late for the various pre-game meetings if he waited for Bitty to both make the butter and finish the sandwiches.

“Go on ahead, honey, I’ll drop these off in the kitchen as soon as they’re done.”

“Thanks, Bits,” Jack dropped a kiss to the top of his head before heading out the door.

The making of the peanut butter and assembling of the sandwiches went smoothly, as did the drive to the arena. Bitty waved at Joe as he slipped past the security guard and into the private parts of the facility.

He arranged the sandwiches on the table in the lounge, putting Jack’s a little away from the others (with a second sticky note on top blocking the message on the one underneath from prying eyes and potential chirps). He was just about to head out and find somewhere to wait out the time until the game actually started - warm-ups didn’t even start for an hour, but he wasn’t about to go back to the apartment just to turn around and come back to the rink - when George rushed into the room, speaking to someone on the phone and pacing.

She hung up and took another lap of the room before noticing Bitty. “Eric! You know your way around a hockey stick!” her eyes had a gleam to them he had never seen before.

“Yes?” The Frozen Four had been hosted here last year, and she was there when Bitty captained the team to victory.

“And just to be sure, you are done school, right? Not playing NCAA hockey anymore?”

He had no idea where she was going, but “Yes?”

She clapped her hands, “Perfect! How’d you like a job, starting five minutes ago?”

“George, what’s going on?” he asked.

“Ted - the assistant equipment manager - got into a car accident on the way here. He’s normally the one on the bench, making sure everyone’s got what they need, but obviously he can’t do that now. Jeffrey also can’t, because they were carpooling. So my head staff is out for the game, and none of the others are available to come in.” She paused to take a breath, not obviously shaken, but after knowing her for three years some signs were a bit more obvious, “So we need someone on the bench at least - thankfully the ice crew handles the skate sharpening, so that’s covered, but we still need the in-game stuff covered.”

“And that’s where I come in?” Bitty guessed.

She nodded, “I’d do it myself, but I have other things I need to handle. Do you think you can do it?”

Bitty thought for a moment before answering. They were serious contenders for the cup this year, and every game counted - he couldn’t take a chance on messing up. But still, “I can do it,” he said.

* * *

Georgia took him on a detour to her office where he signed a small forest’s worth of documents without reading them. When he’d made that joke, she reminded him of the stack he’d already signed as an unofficial official partner to a player. (”You’re getting the standard contract,” she’d said as he flipped through the pages, getting a rough idea of what he was agreeing to at least, “But no severance pay,” she’d added with a wink.) Then they went to the locker room together, the team in the middle of dressing for warm-ups.

“Little B!” Tater said as they entered, “Sandwiches were very good!”

“Thanks, Tater!”

“What’s going on?” Jack asked, straightening up from tying his skates.

“Eric’s going to be filling in for Ted,” George said without preamble, “Any special instructions you got, tell him now.” She patted him on the shoulder, exactly like Ransom or Holster would’ve done, and left the room.

The team swarmed him, every third instruction or so followed up by one of the As saying, “He’s messing with you, don’t do that.”

Finally Jack came up to him. “I think I remember your routine, Mister,” Bitty said, “And it’s not like I don’t spend most of the games watching you or anything.”

“No. You got this, Bits. Kiss for luck?”

Bitty stood on his tip-toes to make up for the extra height difference the skates gave, and ignored the calls of “Fine!” and “Double fine in the locker room!”

Those fines were promptly dropped when Jack went on to score a hat-trick and clinch them their spot in the conference finals.

* * *

 Bitty woke to the sound of his phone ringing. He rolled over to grab it when it stopped. He was just debating grabbing it to see who he’d missed when Jack walked into the bedroom, holding out the phone to him.

“For me?” Bitty said, clearing his throat when it came out more phlegmmy than he was okay with. “Hello?” he said, taking the phone.

“Eric, sorry to wake you,” George said, “But we need to settle a few things in regards to your role as assistant equipment manager.”

“What needs settling?” Eric asked, “I thought it was a one time thing.”

Georgia sighed, “That’s what I thought, too, but Ted and Jeffrey aren’t going to be back for another week - past the start of the conference series. And some of the boys have been making noise about you being a good luck charm. What I’m saying is, how do you feel about staying on for the next series?”

“Okay,” Bitty said, only half processing.

“Great! Come in later today and we’ll make sure everything’s set up right.”

“What was that about?” Jack asked as Bitty stared down at the phone.

“I guess I work for the Falcs now?”

* * *

 It was game six of the conference finals, the Falcs having won three already. Bitty was halfway down the tunnel to the bench, fairly confident in his role by then, when Snowy grabbed him by the shoulder and forcibly pulled him back into the locker room. Bitty thought that was the end of it, but then someone else - he couldn’t tell in the throng of players ready to go on the ice - shoved Jack towards him.

“Y’all, the game’s starting in minutes. I gotta be on the bench.”

“Kiss!” Tater shouted from immediately behind Jack.

Jack sheepishly took off his helmet, holding it awkwardly between his hands, “The guys say the reason we lost the last one is you didn’t give me a good luck kiss before.”

 “Well if that’s all,” he chirped, “Better get to it then.”

Jack closed the distance between them. Bitty reached up and wrapped his fingers in his sweater, pulling him down far enough to plant a kiss on his forehead before kissing him proper.

If you had told 16-year-old Bitty that one day he would be in the middle of a locker room full of professional athletes encouraging him to kiss his boyfriend, he’d never have believed you. This Bitty was quite happy with the situation.

“You got this, Sweetpea,” he said quietly to Jack, before addressing the room at large, “Don’t waste it, boys.”

They didn’t and the Providence Falconers went to the Stanley Cup Finals for the second time in their history.

* * *

 Game four saw the Falcs as the away team and down by one. They were a game behind in the series, too. The lucky kisses were only doing so much, but no one was going to stop now.

The series was getting more intense, too. Rougher, faster, just the best hockey could be. That’s why Bitty wasn’t surprised when Jack finished his shift and requested a new stick sooner than he normally would. He was a bit surprised when Jack said, quiet enough that only he could hear, “I could use a bit more luck.”

Bitty grabbed the new stick and kissed it right in the middle of the blade. “Get me another hat trick,” he said, passing it to Jack.

The rest of the game passed in a blur, Bitty torn between watching the game and performing his job.  They hadn’t managed to catch up and it was in the final minutes of the third period. He was reminded to pay less attention to the game and more to his surroundings when Tater got checked right in front of him and toppled over the boards. Checking practice was still coming in handy, it seemed. He didn’t notice until Tater stood up that his glove had gotten caught right in the hinge of the gate. It must’ve slipped off as he came down.

“I’ll grab a new one,” Bitty told him, as Tater grabbed for it and a tearing sound was heard.

He was just making his way back when a muted roar echoed down the tunnel. Five away games had taught him what a goal sounded like, and this was it. He got back to the bench just in time to see Jack lead the celebratory line down the bench. Jack tipped his stick at him and skated to centre ice for the face-off.

“Here, Tater,” he said, handing over the glove.

“Extra luck today, eh, B?”

Bitty hoped the flush on his cheeks would be written off as the cold. “We wouldn’t need it if _someone_ wasn’t busy bothering the equipment manager,” he chirped.

“Extra luck is good,” Tater said, sliding on the other glove, “Now I get game-winner and maybe B will kiss my hockey stick.” He hopped over the board on the shift-change.

“Tater!” Thirdy said as they passed each other during the change, “You know that has connotations!”

Not thirty seconds later, the buzzer sounded. “Assist almost as good,” Tater said, next time he was on the bench.

* * *

 Game seven, and Bitty thought he’d maybe explode from the stress. He wasn’t this worried in the lead-up to the NCAA Championship, he’d swear. He was in the equipment room, arguing with himself that it wouldn’t be _that_ weird to kiss all the hockey sticks, just to be extra sure, when the door opened.

“Ready, Bits?” Jack said, coming to stand behind him.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? I don’t have to actually play the game.”

“Haha, we need you, too. Were you about to kiss everyone’s sticks?”

Bitty flushed, “I want you to win!” he protested.

“I only need one good luck kiss,” Jack said, gently turning Bitty’s face to his and leaning down.

The kiss itself wasn’t out of the ordinary. More like one they’d share as a greeting in passing rather than the more passionate ones that came out in times of high emotions. That, more than anything, told Bitty how confident Jack was.

“We got this, bud,” Jack said, “Don’t be late!”

* * *

 Bitty’s interactions with the players on the bench were short and too the point, everyone focused 110% on the game. The Falconers took and early lead, but their opponents were quick to return a goal of their own. It continued back and forth like that, and the end of the third period saw the game at a tie. 

Bitty was hurrying to exchange some of the used equipment for newer items, essentially restocking the bench, when Jack flagged him down. Instead of the mini-strategy meetings the team typically had between periods, staff and players alike were focusing on getting ready for more ice time than anticipated - dressing minor injuries and re-hydrating, among other things.

“Bit busy, honey,” Bitty said when he got closer, juggling a few spare sticks that were slowly slipping out of his grip.

“I know.” The tension was palpable. In fact, now that Bitty was closer, he could see Jack’s hands trembling, just a bit. “I’m just…”

Bitty leaned the sticks against the nearest surface. “Jack, you’ve got this.” He slid onto the bench beside Jack, a bit squished but that wasn’t a concern right now. He wrapped an arm around Jack’s shoulders.

The shaking got a bit worse, but after a few minutes Jack seemed to calm back down. “Thanks, Bits,” he said, almost quieter than Bitty could hear.

“’Course, Sweetie,” he said, just as softly, then straightened up a bit, “Now, Mr. Zimmermann, you said you only needed one good luck kiss, but I beg to differ.” He kissed him, trying to put all his hope and confidence into it.

He pulled away and gathered up the sticks, really in a rush now, but not before he said, “Got your back, Jack.”

* * *

Bitty wasn’t sure he would ever be able to breath again. The action had clustered around Snowy, when Jack got a breakaway and flew down the ice, leaving everyone else in his tracks. The players on the bench surged up and even though his view was blocked, he knew what had happened when the roar of the crowd drowned out the buzzer. They’d won!

Bitty watched as they celebrated, heart light. The cup was awarded, and the Conn Smythe, and all of a sudden Bitty was being pushed out onto the ice with the rest of the staff and family. He ran up to Jack, who immediately caught him in his arms, spinning him around and laughing.

“You did it!” Bitty said, pressed up against his chest. He squirmed an arm in to wipe away a few tears.

“I think someone else deserves some credit,” Jack said, loosening his arms enough to be able to see Bitty’s face, “I had a lucky charm all season.”

And one more kiss, for luck.

**Author's Note:**

> Better late than never? This fic was completed about a week ago, but editing and posting it took some effort. Thanks to my friend who encouraged me to get it out when she doesn't even read Check Please! (you know who you are)
> 
> Also a bit loose on the interpretation of the prompt, but I've been wanting to do something involving the kissing of the hockey stick at some point - it happened in game 4 of the Stanley Cup Finals last year, and I cannot find a picture to prove it. So have 2000+ words of trying to figure out how that could happen in this universe.  
> Edit: mmmdraco found a pic! It's down in the comments!


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